Dunmore East Harbour & Village
From The 1940's to the 1960's

In this colourised glimpse of the Harbour, dating from 1960, the scene feels both serene and slightly surreal. At first glance, two nuns appear to be walking along the top of the sheds, but the way they seem to glide across the scene makes me wonder if they're not simply walking but floating — carried along by some unseen spiritual current. Their black-and-white habits contrast sharply with the weathered tones of the buildings, giving them an ethereal presence, as though they belong to a world just a step removed from our own.

The harbour itself seems strangely quiet, devoid of the usual fishermen, villagers, and bustling activity. Perhaps the locals are in hiding, keeping a respectful distance until the nuns safely return behind the convent walls. After all, there's something almost mystical about their presence here, as if they command a reverent silence wherever they go.

The boats bob gently in the water, the only witnesses to this curious scene, while the air seems thick with stories untold. Whether by chance or divine intervention, the nuns' timing was perfect — they are the quiet centre of this photo, in a harbour that, for now, holds its breath.

𝐏𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐃𝐮𝐧𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐄𝐚𝐬𝐭, 𝐈’𝐝 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝟏𝟗𝟔𝟎’𝐬.

For generations, the old toilet on the quay stood as a stalwart convenience overlooking Dunmore's busy harbour. Its humble presence had served the community faithfully, providing relief to day-trippers and locals alike. However, as the harbour expanded and the number of visitors increased, the limitations of this miniature convenience became painfully apparent.

The ever-lengthening queues on the Coast Road during summer days had become a source of frustration for the people of Coxtown. Deliberation and consternation filled the air as discussions ensued about the fate of this beloved yet inadequate fixture, undoubtedly a certain amount of constipation added urgency to the decision-making process.

In early 1963, on a quiet Monday morning before the sun had even fully risen, the decisive moment arrived. The explosives division of the Board of Works, laden with backpacks filled with dynamite, descended upon the old toilet with precision and purpose. With a deafening explosion, they reduced the quaint structure to nothing more than a pile of rubble and fond memories.

Flushed faces lined the dockside as the realization sank in - the familiar convenience was no more. The trek up the road to Fisherman’s Hall now lay ahead for those seeking relief, a journey that symbolized the inexorable march of progress.

Though bittersweet, the removal of the old toilet marked a pivotal moment in Dunmore's history. It served as a poignant reminder that change is inevitable, and that even cherished landmarks must yield to the demands of progress. As the dust settled and the echoes of the explosion faded, Dunmore's harbour stood looless, its landscape forever altered in the name of modernisation.

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐀𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝟏𝟗𝟔𝟑. 

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝟏𝟗𝟔𝟖, 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐭. 𝐌𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐳𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐢𝐧, 𝐚 𝐣𝐨𝐛 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐨. 

Gerry O'Regan remembers: "The Crane was a 'Ruston Bucyrus 54RB'. I remember the day it arrived in Dunmore to join the other two Ruston's that were already there. It was a fair size machine and came off a low loader just below where The Bay Cafe is now. There were 2 other Cranes / Draglines on the job. A 43RB and a 19RB. The drivers of the Cranes were my own Aulfella, Paddy 'The Baron' O'Regan, Paddy Ayton, Kieran Crossan, and Sean Kearns. All RIP now. I don't know who would have been driving it on that day".

𝐀 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝟏𝟗𝟔𝟑 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐫. 

𝐀 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝟏𝟗𝟔𝟖 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩.

𝐀𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝟏𝟗𝟔𝟖 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐨𝐧. 

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥.

𝐀 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐝 𝟏𝟗𝟔𝟎'𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐄𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐞 𝐑𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐁𝐮𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫. 𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐢𝐞.

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎'𝐬. 𝐈𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐣𝐮𝐝𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝, 𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐭.

𝐀 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝟏𝟗𝟔𝟖 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬.

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝟏𝟗𝟔𝟖 𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥, 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐬.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐕𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝟗𝟔𝟎'𝐬, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐝.

𝐈 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨. 𝐈𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐰𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐉𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐲, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐝  𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞. 𝐖𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐠𝐨 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫, 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐞'𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐧, 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

This photo captures a familiar scene and looks like it may have been taken in the 1950s. Motorcars had arrived by this time and were already parking in an unconventional manner, facing in the wrong direction for the side of the road they were parked on. 

Beneath the tree, the wall has been transformed into an all-weather seating area, with shelter from both sun and rain under the branches. For those seeking a sunnier spot, there's ample space available as well.

Three individuals, two men and a young lady, engage in conversation on the street, their hands resting behind their backs. I suppose without phones they had nothing to fiddle with.

Adorning the wall of the Fisherman’s Hall are two towels and a pair of swimming trunks, likely left there by swimmers seeking to dry them off after a visit to Stoney Cove.

The absence of empty chip bags on the street, from Wolfe Dooley’s chip shop, suggests that the litter pickers were diligent in their work that morning. Altogether, these elements contribute to a picture-perfect summer’s day in Dunmore East.

In this photograph, taken at the end of July 1949, people can be seen soaking up the summer sun. Despite the continued use of ration books, one thing that wasn't in short supply was sunshine. The summer of 1949 saw several heatwaves, with temperatures soaring into the high 80s, making it one of the hottest years on record in Ireland.

This was a mere four years after the cessation of heavy artillery fire on the Shanoon. Following five years of seclusion in their bunkers, people were revelling in their newfound freedom. The delightful weather was a welcome relief.

As depicted in the photo, there were queues for the quayside toilet even then, though it remained manageable, with no rationing in place for its use.

The front page of the Munster Express featured some local news for Dunmore residents. Mr. Ballintyne, the new owner of the Haven Hotel, previously owned by the Wall Morris family, was set to begin construction of a pitch and putt course on the hotel grounds.

Dinnie Lynch of Leperstown earned praise for rescuing a dog belonging to a Ballymacaw visitor, the pooch had become trapped in a cliff crevice. Dinnie put himself in considerable danger by bravely descending the cliff attached to a rope, ensuring the dog's safe return.

Miss Kathy Spencer from Brownstown sustained injuries to both knees following a bicycle accident at Harney’s corner. She required transport home in Willie Lawlor’s car but was on the road to recovery.

A midweek dance, hosted by the District Nurse Association, took place in the Haven, followed by a fundraising dance for Sailing Club members the following week.

It was heartening to witness the village residents enjoying themselves once more after the hardships of war. With nothing but blue skies ahead, Dunmore East looked toward a brighter future.

As the dawn broke over the tranquil waters of the quay in Dunmore East on a morning in 1965, the unsuspecting workmen of the Board of Works arrived for another day of hard labour. Little did they know, they were about to stumble upon a mystery that would leave them scratching their heads in disbelief.

Imagine their sheer astonishment upon discovering that, under the cloak of darkness, someone had desecrated the quay by stubbing out large cigarettes in its beloved dock. The audacity of such an act left them dumbfounded, prompting a flurry of speculation and investigation.

At first, suspicion fell upon the "Friends of the Island" group, but it was quickly dismissed as none of its members were known smokers. The possibility of a visiting yachtsman illegally mooring overnight was also considered, yet no records could substantiate such a claim. Even Captain Carroll's smoking habits were questioned, albeit briefly, before being brushed aside as nonsensical.

In the absence of concrete evidence, the blame shifted towards an elusive French boat allegedly responsible for dumping its smelly cigarettes in the harbour. However, with no tangible evidence, the mystery persisted, leaving the Board of Works crew grasping at straws for answers.

The next day the engineers from Dublin arrived, summoned to devise a solution to this peculiar predicament. Ingeniously, they proposed building over the cigarette butts, utilizing them as support for an unplanned section of the new harbour. What initially seemed like an act of vandalism transformed into an unexpected boon, as the discarded cigarettes unwittingly contributed to the further enhancement of the quay's infrastructure.

As the dust settled and the quay underwent its metamorphosis, the identity of the mysterious smoker remained a tantalizing enigma. Yet, amidst the uncertainty, one thing became clear – whoever they were, they inadvertently bestowed a service upon the village, catalysing the evolution of the quay into what it is today.

In the end, perhaps it's not the identity of the culprit that matters, but rather the unexpected twists of fate that shape our surroundings. The mystery of the quay serves as a reminder that even the most perplexing incidents can yield unforeseen benefits, while also weaving an intriguing narrative into the folklore of Dunmore East.

At the beginning of April in 1954, 70 years ago now, the final burning of the ‘Straw Judas’ occurred on the Island in Dunmore East. This had been a village tradition dating back to medieval times, involving the procession of Judas, a figure clad in a straw ensemble, from Killea church to the harbour. Along the route, villagers would pelt him with rotten fish and vegetables. Upon reaching the Island, the man would disrobe from the costume before the effigy was set ablaze.

Once the Straw Judas was in place and ready for burning, a group of nuns, donned in veils and knee-length swimsuits, would dash from the convent, with the parish priest in pursuit. They would plunge into the water at the lifeboat house and swim towards the Island. The fastest of the swimming nuns would win the honour of lighting the torch and presenting it to the Judas Priest. Following a ceremony in Latin, the effigy would be set ablaze. Spectators would chant "Burn Judas Burn" until every last straw was consumed by the flames, and the remnants swept away by the tide.

Reflecting on this old Easter tradition, I believe it should be revived in Dunmore East. It was a huge crowd pleaser in the past and has the potential to captivate crowds once again. And what better day to hold it than on April 1st each year?

In the 1960s, Councillors Strand was a hotspot for holidaymakers, hailing from distant places like Coxtown, Leperstown, and even Gregaridda. Accessing the strand wasn't as straightforward back then as it is today. Visitors had to navigate a narrow pathway tangled with briars to reach the sand, but at least there were blackberries to nibble on along the way.

Sun seekers would sprawl out all day long, aiming for that coveted rock lobster tan. Calamine lotion served as the sunscreen of choice, though it was typically applied only after the inevitable sunburn set in.

People would bring their transistors along, those quaint radios of yesteryears, not "trans-sisters". Music would blare from them, or occasionally, on Sundays, the sound of hurling or football matches would fill the air. Once, I witnessed a group of young men with a portable record player, resembling a modern toaster. You'd slot in a 45 record, like you’d put bread in the toaster, and it would play the hits of the day. I was thoroughly impressed, assuming these youths were the Beach Boys, only to discover in later years that one of them was Gerry the vegetable man. Although, Gerry did play in a band as well as delivering vegetables, so my assumption wasn't entirely incorrect.

Swimming tubes and lilos were widely used, regardless of the wind's direction; caution seemed less prevalent in those days. After the swimming, the highlight of the day awaited: banana sandwiches, topped with an extra sprinkle of sand and washed down with a premixed summer drink, made from a special orange powder that came in a sachet.

Once the sun would start to fade, it would be time to struggle back up the pathway, often lugging a bucket of jellyfish. Looking back, bringing jellyfish home was pretty futile; they were rather uneventful creatures, sitting at the bottom of your tin bucket looking up at you. They usually found their way back into the sea at Lawlors Strand.

It's fair to say that children had it made during the summers of the 1960s, and Councillors Strand was the place to be. And if the day in the sun wasn’t enough for you, there was always ‘Batman’ on the television, or some equally educational programme like ‘I Dream of Jeannie’ or ‘Get Smart’, when you got home. Life sure was good back then.

This vessel seems quite large for Dunmore. The harbour must have undergone dredging to accommodate it. 

According to William Power, it’s the S.S. Soussien. It took away the scrap metal from the Lincolnshire and Anthony salvaged by the L'Artiglio during the 1930’s.

The following information is compiled from two reports from the Munster Express of June 19th, 1936 and October 30th, 1936. 

French Steamer at Dunmore East: 

On Saturday, June 13th, 1936, the French steamer SS Soussion arrived at Dunmore East. This vessel, weighing 849 tons net and 1,530 gross, is owned by the Comptoirs Francais des Transports, headquartered at 3 Rue Laffitte, Paris, and registered in Marseilles. The purpose of her visit was to load copper salvaged from the sunken steamer Lincolnshire.

The Lincolnshire, a casualty of the Great War, lies some miles off the Hook. The salvaged copper was destined for an English port, marking an important salvage operation of the era.

The SS Soussion made a significant return to Dunmore East at the end of October, 1936, this time to load approximately 1,300 tons of iron and copper. These materials were recovered by the Italian ship Artiglio from the same wreck, the SS. Lincolnshire. This visit marked the second cargo load by the Soussion, following her initial trip in June, where she had also transported a substantial consignment of salvaged materials.

The photo was probably taken during the June visit in 1936.

The number of cars outside Lawlor’s Hotel in this colourised photo is remarkable. One might be tempted to think they’ve gathered to watch something thrilling on a television inside, but that couldn’t be it—everyone knows Lawlor’s wasn’t the first bar in Dunmore to have a TV. In fact, the bar was usually busy on Sunday afternoons whenever there was a Waterford away match. Everyone would gather around the big radio, cheering as loudly as those in attendance at the match itself—maybe even louder, as they had the benefit of drinks at hand.

Looking closer, it seems to be a bright, sunny day, likely in the late 1940s. The sheer number of people leaning against the Storm Wall gives it away as summertime. No one would dare stand there in the winter, not with the waves threatening to sweep them out to sea. The village is buzzing with life, with something happening in every corner.

I notice that here’s a structure over on Councilors Strand, possibly a seaside bar or maybe even an ice cream shop—reflective of the relaxed atmosphere of those post-war years. If this had been the early 40s, we’d have seen a far different scene: soldiers marching up and down the hill, and maybe even a tank or two. But on this day, it’s clear the war is over, and Dunmore is soaking up the peace and sunshine, with the Lower Village at the heart of it all.